Plot Bunnies
by LWJ2
Summary: Stuff that wouldn't leave me alone - most of it is short. Characters will vary, so far the settings are non-canon. Humourous but likely to be a bit twisted. Most of these will be non-canon.
1. Chapter 1

MALFOY

_Harry Potter, the related characters and universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. This was written for my amusement and that of others, no form of financial remuneration has been, or will be received by me._

Lucius Malfoy sat in the prisoner's dock, manacled, wearing a muggle jump suit with HM PRISONER stenciled on the front and back. His hair was unkempt, which bothered him more than the so-called trial.

There was no audience, something for which he was grateful. His barrister had said something about 'proceedings held _in camera_' — whatever that was; Lucius' Latin allowed him to translate it to 'in the vault.' Only his barrister, the Crown Prosecutor and the judge were present. He knew he was a dead man, the only question remaining was if he would be allowed to die with some semblance of dignity.

After the disastrous battle at Hogwarts, he'd been captured. He shivered, remembering the ice-cold tone in Harry Potter's voice. "_Congratulations, Malfoy. I can't kill you now._" Potter had paced back and forth a bit. "_But I can make the rest of your life a living Hell. And I will._"

Day after long day, he'd been interrogated under Veritaserum. He'd written and signed a confession, the Crown officers unaware that he had been controlled by the _Imperius_ curse as he did so. Then Potter had appeared in his cell one night, stripped him of his magic and laughed in his face. "_The Prime Minister sent your confession to the Queen. She's seen the pensieve memories. She's _personally_ instructed the judge, the Crown Prosecutor and the Home Secretary as to how you are to be handled. I have no idea what her orders are, but I suspect you won't enjoy them._"

"The prisoner will rise." Lucius shuffled to his feet, facing the judge.

"I have read the parts of your confession allowed me by Her Majesty. I have seen some of the …" he paused. "Some of the videos of your acts and those of your fellows." He paused again, a look of utter contempt on his face. "By direct order of Her Majesty the Queen, you are sentenced to imprisonment for the rest of your life without parole or appeal." He paused again. "On my own cognizance, I hereby order that such imprisonment shall take place at Her Majesty's Prison Maze in Northern Ireland. May God have mercy on your soul."

The judge turned to the prosecutor. "This prisoner shall be known henceforth only as HM Prisoner. No name, no number. No special confinement, other than the general population at HMP Maze. Inquiries shall be directed to me, the Prime Minister or Her Majesty. Note this in the records sent with HM Prisoner." He paused again, then turned to Malfoy's barrister. "These proceedings are covered by the Official Secrets Act. Violation thereof shall be punished harshly."

Two days later, Lucius Malfoy discovered the Provisional Irish Republican Army and the joys of being an English aristocrat in Long Kesh.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Question**

_This was written for my amusement and that of others. No financial remuneration has been or will be received by me. Harry Potter, related characters and the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling._

"I was under the _imperius_," Lucius Malfoy declaimed.

"Ah, yes. And as a pureblood, you are exempt from interrogation with Veritaserum," Madam Bones observed. "However," she continued, we have other means of ascertaining the truth."

There was a stirring in the audience as a man clad in black wearing a scarlet sash and a cap of maintenance rose.

"Lord Malfoy," Bones continued, "let me introduce you to Jozef Cardinal Ratzinger. He will be questioning you further. He is here from Rome, where he currently heads the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith."

Malfoy's already pale complexion went bloodless.

"You may recall that the Congregation was previously known as the Holy Office of the Inquisition."


	3. Chapter 3

_This was written for my own amusement and that of others. The Harry Potter, universe and related characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. No recompense, financial, real or chattel, has been or will be received by me._

"**In the name of the Queen ..."**

Those present in Diagon Alley who weren't screaming, ducking or running from the curses of Voldemort and his Death Eaters stared at the man dressed in some sort of outlandish muggle costume.

Really, now. A bright red tunic with golden buttons and three golden vees and a crown on one sleeve, gold-striped black trousers puffed out at the thighs, going into almost knee-length shiny brown boots. Some sort of leather pockets attached to a belt system that ran around his waist and over his left shoulder, a funny-looking tan hat with a wide brim and a short, pointed top, almost like a sawn-off wizard's hat. Just standing there, holding a piece of paper. Facing Voldemort.

"Thomas Marvelo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort and He Who Must Not Be Named?" the muggle asked calmly.

Voldemort stared, surprised a muggle knew his real name. _I can always kill him later_, he thought.

"Yes," Voldemort replied.

"Thomas Marvelo Riddle, upon sworn complaint of the Most Honourable Harold James Potter, Marquess of Powys, I arrest you in the name of the Queen for treason, murder, rapine and theft. Additional charges may be laid against you at a later date. Any statement you make may be used against you in Court. Come along now."

"You?" Voldemort was stunned at the calm arrogance of the muggle. "Who the hell are _you_ to arrest _me_?"

"Sergeant Thomas Stephenson of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police," came the calm response. "Come along now, Mr. Riddle."

Voldemort lifted his wand and sighted carefully. "_Avada k-_"

BOOM BOOM BOOM. Voldemort's chest exploded, covering several Death Eaters in a spray of blood. Moments later, all of the Death Eaters collapsed, screaming, clutching their left arms. Harry and Neville turned the corner from Knockturn onto Diagon carrying a dripping snake head and Gryffindor's sword. They walked over to where Sergeant Stephenson was standing over Voldemort's body.

Harry looked down at the body. "Pity," he said turning to Neville. "Her Majesty was looking forward to seeing him in the Tower." He turned to the Mountie. "Are you all right, Sergeant?"

"I was fine until you lot showed up with that bloody snake's head, m'lord." Stephenson holstered his pistol. "Still, it's better than most, it's dead."

FIN

**Author's Note:** This sort of sprang from my fevered brain, low on blood sugar and over-dosed with caffeine. I'm from the U.S., a 'boomer' and grew up with stories of the RCMP; "Sergeant Preston of the Mounted Police;" _Black John of Halfaday Creek_ and others. Mounties always get their man, so, what if ...


End file.
